


Withered

by MimeticEternity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Fury, Gen, M/M, Rage, Sad, dark side, plant - Freeform, venting piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimeticEternity/pseuds/MimeticEternity
Summary: Obi-Wan is furious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% just me venting my rage and projecting through beloved characters and fanfiction, but I figure if someone enjoys the reading then hey, all the better.

“What the hell do you want.”

Obi-Wan’s bitterness and anger made the room buzz with agitated energy. Qui-Gon sighed.

“Can we talk about this?”

Obi-Wan huffed and all but jumped up from the couch, a thunderous scowl on his face. He wasn’t used to fury like this, to being so completely out of control, but it didn’t matter anymore. They were all dead. Everything he had ever fought for, everyone he had ever loved. Gone. There was no one around to care if he succumbed to a fit of rage. Well, no one except the ghost hovering around his living room.

He stormed into the kitchen, turning on the tap and aggressively scrubbing at the dishes in the sink. He could sense Qui-Gon standing behind him, and that feeling only made him angrier, the blood in his veins threatening to boil. Qui-Gon fidgeted, starting to worry. “Obi-Wan, you need to calm down-“  
  
“Don’t tell me what to do!”

The plate in his hand shattered, shards flying out of the sink, others into his hand. His shout echoed and reverberated in the walls, unintentionally amplified by the Force. Qui-Gon’s worry only doubled when Obi-Wan didn’t even seem to notice the shards of ceramic lodged in his hand.

“You are not my master anymore! You have no right to order me around!”

Qui-Gon held up his hands in deference, considering leaving if it would get Obi-Wan to calm down. Somehow, Qui-Gon sensed that disappearing again would only infuriate his ex-padawan even more. With a great strength of will, Obi-Wan didn’t say anything else, forcing himself to turn back to the sink. The tap was still running.

_Hm. Wasting water._

The plate was shattered.

_That was an antique._

His hand was bleeding.

_Doesn’t hurt._

He looked up. There was a small plant resting in a pot on the windowsill. Delicate, precious, green – Obi-Wan had been nursing it back to health ever since it’d been given to him as a gift from a fearful jawa. He had no idea where the little creature had managed to find a green, growing plant, but he’d taken it in and cared for it almost like a child.

It was dead.

Obi-Wan let go of a chunk of the plate he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, urgently reaching for the plant with a startled noise. Obi-Wan shook as he gently picked up the pot, blood smearing the smooth surface. In his anger he had literally drained the life from the plant, the violent Force eddies singeing the delicate leaves and evaporating the water from the soil. Obi-Wan frantically held the pot under the still-running water, setting it down on the counter after the soil was moist and soft. His hands trembled, blood dripping onto the withered stems as he willed the Force to move through this plant, to bring it back to life. The pot and plant alike trembled, tears mixing in with the blood, and Obi-Wan made a broken noise. He was too unfocused, too hurt, too _angry._ The Force hummed and vibrated around him, resisting his efforts to channel it into this tiny, green life. He fell onto his knees, sobbing, the plant still bent and withered. He pulled the pot down onto the ground with him, curling up around it and rocking like a lost child. Qui-Gon, at a loss, knelt and reached out towards the plant, but Obi-Wan snarled and violently twisted away from him. “GO AWAY!”

The plant seemed to wither even more, and Qui-Gon snatched back his hand, his form seeming to waver like a faulty transmission. “Obi-Wan, I can help-”

…

Qui-Gon disappeared. Obi-Wan had looked at him, so full of rage that he hadn't been able to control his tongue enough to speak, and Qui-Gon had feared that Obi-Wan would irreversibly hurt himself in this state. That look would haunt him for the rest of his existence. Ha, funny, that his padawan was the one haunting him.

Obi-Wan stayed curled up on the kitchen floor and cried.


End file.
